Haven

Second Entry!!! A poem in the style of Wilfred Owen. A soldiers contemplation of his struggle.

I feel the numbness seeping through,
Those who survived one of the few,
Yet is it so for I lie in pain?
Was our struggle for glory on in vain

This make shift ward, a make shift haven,
Can do no good but offer sedation,
The nurse tends, like a mother, to my wounds
Before my salvation I feared I was doomed

I look down towards my severed limb,
Injury inflicted, the out-look grim,
The pain inside, a ball of fire
I hear my scream reach higher and higher

For war itself is a dangerous weapon,
It sends boys to hell or high heaven,
I weep to myself, tears of my life,
That I threw away in the constant strife

Author's Note

What do you think?